Excerpt from the Memoirs of Maria Ismavaldi
by YT1
Summary: This is the bio I wrote for my first Mage character. It's a first-person account and I think it stands pretty well on its own.


This is a character bio for _Mage: The Sorcerer's Crusade,_ by White Wolf games. My character, Maria Ismavaldi, was originally intended to be an NPC – but our Storyteller let me take her up as a character when I joined in the game. I wrote out her bio as a first-person account, and I think it's one of the better things I've written. I hope others will enjoy it too.

Excerpt from the Memoirs of Maria Ismavaldi

By YT

Many people seem to think that my father, Giovanni Ismavaldi, was a Solificati Magus, or at least that he was Awakened to magic. I'm sorry to disappoint, but he was merely a mundane, thoroughly non-magical alchemist, who mixed potions, extracted quicksilver from cinnabar, and refined precious metals for a living. There was no history of magical talent in his family, and I am not sure about my mother – she died when I was an infant, and my father did not speak of her. The mixed blessing of magic was given to me by fate alone.

But I am getting ahead of myself. I should back up and start at the very beginning.

I was born on March 21st in the Year of Our Lord 1422, to Giovanni and Francesca Ismavaldi of Venice. I do not remember much of my mother, who died of a fever when I was two years old. The job of raising me, therefore, fell upon my father.

Father was a competent alchemist but lacked the nerve and political dexterity that are believed – not without reason – to be typical of Venetians. His proficiency at his craft and his scholarly knowledge were not enough to make up for this deficiency, so though he was a Master in the Alchemists' Guild he was so only in name; in fact, his status was little better than that of a Journeyman. If he had not gotten a modest but comfortable house as part of my mother's dowry we would have lived in very humble lodgings indeed. As it was Father could only afford two servants in a house that had once been staffed by a dozen, and though we could afford the necessities of life and the supplies for my father's craft, we were comparatively poor, though our poverty was of the genteel variety.

Our lack of money did not trouble my father, nor did his low standing in the Alchemists' Guild. His greatest woe was that he had a daughter instead of a son. Although he did not speak of it, the way he treated me was a constant reminder of what he lacked, and where I failed him, though it was through no fault of my own. My bond with my father – or my lack of it – caused me a great deal of pain. But I think it contributed to the manner of my Awakening, and the kind of magic I used.

When I was a child, my father tried to make up for his lack of a son by teaching me as he would have taught a boy. As the daughter of a scholar I had to learn how to read and write in my native language, and perhaps a little Latin as well, but no more than that. Father gave me a proper Alchemists' education in Latin, Greek and mathematics, so that I would be as proficient in them as any of the boys he tutored (and I was, I daresay, better at all three than most of his students). He even taught me Arabic numbers, which were used by many Venetian merchants and craftsmen (albeit secretly, to avoid accusations of heresy) because they were much easier to use for calculation than Roman numbers. I even practiced archery, which was my father's favorite sport, by shooting at targets in our courtyard.

I also watched when he held lessons for novice and apprentice Alchemists, either in the courtyard or, when the weather was bad, in the dining room and kitchen. He saw no reason to keep me out as long as I was quiet and well-behaved. Although I could not participate in the lessons, I picked up what I could by watching and listening. In such a way I inherited my father's love for learning and knowledge, and by sharing in them I too could be loved.

As the years went by, though, it became more and more difficult to earn Father's approval. I think that when I was younger it was easier for him to pretend that I was a boy, and treat me more or less like one, which seemed to give him some comfort. But as I grew older (and, as a consequence, more obviously female), he could no longer do so. Some time after my twelfth year he began to treat me differently, and the bond between us grew steadily weaker. He rarely tutored me or spent time with me as he once had – much of the time he ignored me, or treated me as if I were a casual acquaintance and not his child at all.

My father's appearance began to change as well. In a few short years his dark-brown hair went gray, his round cheeks became gaunt, and the smooth skin of his face and hands filled with lines and wrinkles. He was hardly over forty but looked almost sixty. I thought that I was at fault for his misery, and did everything I could think of in order to restore the bond between us, but to no avail. Watching him teach others made me sick with envy, for every time he congratulated or complimented one of his students for doing well in their lessons I felt they were stealing something that was rightfully mine.

At this time, when I was beginning to lose my father, something else started happening to me. I had strange dreams of a dark corridor of rough-hewn stone, and a gentle-voiced man who always kept just out of sight. It never occurred to me to be afraid of these dreams, though only years later did I find out why they seemed so natural to me. The man I could not see was my Avatar, the spirit of my magic. I did not know it at the time, since nobody had ever told me about Avatars, or the magical Traditions, or the Nine Spheres of power. I did not understand that I was on the cusp of Awakening, but I _did_ know that there was something unusual about the dreams. For though I had only vague memories of the words the unseen man whispered in my ear while I slept, I carried the revelations he gave me to the waking world. If I was confused by a philosophical essay or theorem that I read in one of my father's books, the voice in my dreams would explain it to me.

Once I had studied so that I could gain my father's approval. But the dreams made me pursue learning for its own sake. I hungered for knowledge as others hungered for meat and drink. My father's small library was not enough – in a little more than half a year I had read and committed to memory everything of value that I could find there. I started borrowing books from some of my father's students and friends; while I did not exactly keep it a secret from him, I was discreet about it. He may have known, but if so he never discussed it with me.

For a time my life was, though not good, at least not getting worse. My new pursuit helped to fill the void that was left by my father's distance from me – yes, we lived in the same house and saw each other every day, but most of the time we might as well have been on opposite sides of the world.

Things did not stay that way for long, though. By the time I was fifteen I had made the transition from childhood to young womanhood, and that brought on a whole new set of problems. Before this the students in my father's classes had quietly accepted me; now I was the object of more attention than I was accustomed to. Many who had rarely spoken to me made special efforts to show me courtesy or engage me in conversation, which I found slightly irritating. A few even flirted with me when my father was not present, especially Antony, my father's star pupil. Most girls would have welcomed his advances, for he had money, good looks, a keen mind and a way with words. I, however, was not interested in romance or marriage, and I disliked Antony because my father showed him the favor and approval that he had stopped giving me years ago.

Eventually my father decided that I was a distraction to his students and forbade me from sitting in on lessons any longer. This made me upset, but the worst was yet to come. Shortly after I turned sixteen, my father sat me down for a serious discussion. "Antony has asked me for your hand in marriage," he said, getting straight to the point as he always did. "I have given him my permission. He'll make a good husband for you."

My surprise quickly gave way to rage. Of course I was angry that my father intended to give me away without my consent, even if that sort of thing was fairly common, but what really rankled was that I had become a token of affection for the boy he treated as his favorite child. I was to be married off to the object of my envy for the same thing that had made me jealous in the first place. "I don't _want_ to marry him, Father," I said flatly, unable to be more eloquent in the face of my anger.

Something flared in my father's eyes, but he kept control of himself. After taking a deep breath he spoke again. "Maria, he will be a journeyman soon, and he has a bright future ahead of him. I'll be honest with you – his is likely to be the best offer you'll get. We aren't rich or prestigious, and he is both. Please," he said, "I am getting old, and you are the only child I have. I would like to see my grandchildren before I die."

His plea only served to make me more angry. He was not thinking about _my_ future or _my_ welfare at all – my only value to him would be that of a mother to his grandsons, not a daughter at all. "I know why you want me to marry Antony," I said, the boiling of my blood coming out in a cold voice. "And that's why I don't want to."

The words were intended to hurt, but not so badly as they did. Perhaps the years of frustration had simply become too much for him, and what I said had been the final straw. His patience broke and, before I could react, he stood up from his chair and grabbed me by the arm. I begged him to let go – his grip was painful – and when he didn't, I struggled, all to no avail. He dragged me to my room, opened the door and flung me through it. I collapsed on the floor, and before I could get up he slammed the door and locked it from the outside.

"You are going to stay in there," I heard him growl, "until you accept."

I got up and scrambled to the door, but he was already stalking away – I could hear his footsteps and the creaking of the floorboards in the hall. "Father! Don't do this! Please let me go, please, please…" I broke into sobs as I realized that I would not be able to change his mind. He'd never shown such anger before, or treated me so badly, and I could not understand what he had just done or why.

Then I thought of how he had behaved with me over the past few years, treating me in an awkward way if he did not ignore me all together, and the outburst went from being unexpected to inevitable. I was not a boy and so could never be good enough for him. Marrying me off so that I could give him grandchildren was the only way he could get what he really wanted – a male heir – and so he was desperate enough to treat me like a prisoner until I agreed to do as he wished. With a cold feeling in my stomach I stood up and staggered to my bed, then lay down on the blankets and stared up at the discolored plaster ceiling above me.

If I had still wanted more than anything to please my father, I would have married Antony without hesitation. But what I wanted had changed, and I knew that marriage would keep me from getting it. I was not going to marry. But what _else_ could I do?

Despite my dread I was able to fall asleep, or at least I think I did; perhaps what happened next was a waking dream. I found myself in the dark corridor again, but this time it seemed more solid than it ever had before. Standing in front of me was a tall, handsome young man with olive skin, a straight nose and high cheekbones. Curls of dark hair peeked out from beneath his winged cap. He was clad in a purple kiton, in the manner of ancient Greek nobility, and wore a pair of winged sandals. In his right hand he carried a silver wand with two snakes circling round it. I recognized the man as Hermes, the messenger god, patron of travelers and those who live by their wits (he was also the favorite deity of the Solificati, and is still a favorite among Alchemists). Even before he opened his mouth I knew that his had been the voice that guided me for years.

"The time has come for you to make a decision," he told me. "At each end of this hall there is a door. If you go _that_ way," he said, pointing to his right with the tip of his wand, "You will marry and live a rather uneventful life." I looked in that direction and saw a wooden door flanked by two torches hanging in wall brackets. "It will be an easy and comfortable life, but you will never fulfill your potential, and you will never get what you really want." Hermes then lowered his wand and regarded me for a moment before continuing. "But if you go _that_ way," he said, pointing to the left, "You will walk the path of learning and wisdom. With a lot of effort, a lot of cleverness and a little luck, you may – though I don't guarantee it – discover knowledge and power beyond your wildest dreams." I was more than a little confused, for at that end of the hall there were two torches but no door – only blank stone.

I returned my gaze to Hermes again. He took a step closer to me. "Choose wisely," he said quietly. "For once you have made your decision, you can never go back."

For a few moments I stood there, looking first at the wooden door, then the blank wall. Knowledge and power were what I wanted, but how was I to get them when there was no door? I turned to look at Hermes, a question on my lips, but he had vanished while I was not watching.

Well, he had said that the path of knowledge would not be traversed without effort. I went to the blank wall, my feet echoing on the stone floor, and put my hand to it. At first I just tried to push it, but nothing happened. Then I tried sliding my hands over it, looking for some cleverly concealed panel. My search turned up nothing.

I looked over my shoulder toward the distant wooden door. Perhaps I was attempting the impossible – maybe I would be better off if I just took that way out.

_No_, I decided. I had not been able to get what I wanted before, but I would get it now, no matter what I had to do. Gritting my teeth I turned back to the wall and put my hands against it, and then – how can I describe it? – I felt and saw the stone, not with my hands and eyes, but with some other sense that I had not possessed before. I _knew_ how to manipulate it so that it would let me through. It was so _easy_. All I had to do was…

Suddenly the wall ceased to be solid, and turned into nothing more than thick fog. Because I had been leaning against it I fell right through, onto a floor of veined green marble tiles. When I looked up I was in a vast, brightly illuminated room, but I did not know where the light was coming from. The chamber was circular, with forty-foot walls of pale yellow stone. There was no ceiling – instead the room was open to the glittering night sky above. Around the walls, spaced about ten feet apart, were red marble pillars. Between the sets of pillars were floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, strange artifacts, and all sorts of mysterious bottles and boxes.

In the center of the room were several tables. Two were covered with scrolls and open books. On the other three were dried herbs and chunks of minerals, as well as flasks of strange liquids and equipment for boiling, distilling or purifying whatever one might wish. I stood up and turned to look at the wall I had just entered through; unlike the other walls it had no shelves, but a great mosaic bearing an image of Hermes himself. Those who have seen my Sanctum will recognize this description – indeed I modeled it after that room, and for those of you who have not and are wondering, I did not install a door. None of the people who frequent my laboratory would need one. But I digress.

I sensed someone behind me and turned around. Hermes was there, smiling at me. "You made the right decision," he said. "Now you must decide what to do with it."

I awoke back in my room, which was dark but for some moonlight coming in through the small glass window over my bed. Somehow I knew that it was almost exactly three minutes to midnight. I was less surprised at this than I should have been, especially since I had never before been a good judge of time.

Upon sitting up I felt light-headed, but not at all ill. In fact I felt stronger than I had ever been. Everything seemed different somehow – even more so if I focused on a particular object, for then I could understand it the same way I had the blank stone wall in my vision, just before I opened it. My new sight was disorienting, but also wonderful.

No longer was I unsure of what I had to do. The place in my dream had been an Alchemists' laboratory, and alchemy was what I knew best. I knew the Guild was unlikely to admit a woman – few Guilds did – but I would get in, one way or another. After getting a large pack from the chest at the foot of my bed I went around my room, getting clothes and books and other things I would need for my journey. Once I was done packing, and had put on boots and a cloak, I prepared to go through my wall the same way I had done with the wall in my dream. In the real world it was not so easy – it took me a few minutes to make the wall insubstantial, and another few minutes to restore it once I walked through; I felt that I should not leave it that way, and I did not know that the enchantment would have faded without my intervention.

That done, I set off walking along the small canal that ran beside what had been, until a few minutes ago, my home. I did not even give it a final look as I headed for the nearest bridge. The Alchemists' Guild headquarters were three miles away – which seems like much further in a city – and though there were gondolas out at that late hour, I had no money for the fare. I walked all the way, trying not to look suspicious. Once or twice I lost my way, because though I had been there with my father I had only gone a few times and the walk was not familiar. Eventually, though, I reached my destination, and spent the rest of the night curled up in the gateway like a beggar.

I entered the Guild courtyard the next day, shortly after the gates were opened. Though I had had no more than four hours and twenty-three minutes of less-than-satisfying sleep (again, my new senses gave me an uncanny sense of time), I felt full of energy. The porter and servants recognized me as Giovanni Ismavaldi's daughter and assumed that I was there on business for him – although I imagine that they were wondering what brought me there so early in the day, and dressed for traveling. One thing I have found is that people will bear a great deal of strangeness if it is balanced with just a little familiarity and a firm attitude.

Thankfully by then I had a grasp of political intrigue, at least at the most basic level, so I knew who I ought to approach for an apprenticeship or at least admittance as a novice. The man I wanted to see was Master Vincento; not only was he foremost in the Guild at that time, but he had a less-than-perfect relationship with my father. The last thing I wanted to do was ask for help from someone who was friendly with my father and might return me to him. I had to wait half an hour for Vincento to show up at the Guild, but had the good fortune to be admitted to his office shortly after his arrival. He was perceptive enough to see that I was not on business for my father, and was curious about my reasons for calling on him.

Master Vincento was very different from my father. His knowledge of alchemical literature was not so extensive or deep, but his skill in the craft itself was considerable, and he had all the wit and charisma that my father lacked. Also, though he was older than my father, he looked to be just over forty – his short dark hair had barely started to go gray, and there were only a few lines on his face. Vincento was tall, dignified and stylish where my father was stooped, humble and somewhat threadbare in appearance. That last was not simply because Vincento could afford good clothes; it was something in his attitude.

After exchanging the requisite pleasantries with the Master, I told him that I wished to be admitted membership to the Guild. Because I could not have lied well enough to hide it, I admitted that I was going against my father's wishes in doing so. Vincento seemed rather surprised at this – _pleasantly_ surprised, oddly enough – and I continued by saying that I had the technical expertise and knowledge to be an apprentice, though I would take a position as a novice if I really had to.

Vincento laughed, not unkindly, when I claimed to be at the level of a Guild apprentice. But he did not send me off outright. "I will take you on as an apprentice myself, if you can prove your skill by passing some tests that I shall set to you. In the meantime, I will give you room and board in the Guild." He had been convinced more easily than I expected. That worried me a little, though not as much as it probably should have.

He had a servant show me up to a small garret room in the northwest corner of the Guild building. It had not been used for a long time and was rather dusty. I helped him clean it out, thinking that I would do best to make friends wherever I could, even if they were only servants. I was also used to doing housework, since I had never had a lot of servants to do it all for me. My strategy worked – the servant, who had shown me only the necessary politeness before, started to treat me in a friendly way. This might not have worked for one of the other Guild students, but to him I was obviously an outcast and little better off than he.

After spending the morning and part of the afternoon cleaning, with a meager lunch at midday (I ate in the Guild kitchens with some of the novices, who would not sit near me and regarded me with suspicion), I was called down to Vincento's office again. He had devised the tests he had spoken of earlier. The first was an oral test on alchemical lore of the sort all novices are given before they can be promoted to an apprenticeship – I passed that without much difficulty. My other trials were of a more practical nature, and it took me several days to complete them; I had to make flash powder (fairly easy), extract silver from a fist-sized piece of ore (a little more difficult), and mix good purple dye (which was unbearably tedious). All that time my quarters were in the drafty garret room and my meals were even simpler and less satisfying than what I had gotten at home, but I endured it for the reward that was sure to come.

Vincento was satisfied with my performance, but he told me – albeit with delicacy – that there was one more condition for my apprenticeship. And it was certainly not a standard test given to aspiring Alchemists. I would be treated as a favorite student, but I would also have to be his mistress. After having spent some of the past few days wondering why he had been so quick to accept my rather audacious request, I had expected that he might ask such a thing of me, and I was not really shocked to hear it. Nor do I feel guilty for accepting his terms. It was a way of turning the disadvantage of being female into an asset, and I would have done much worse for what he offered.

With that, a new part of my life began. I had access to all the books in the Guild library and all the materials I wanted for experiments. Master Vincento gave me considerable freedom, allowing me to pursue my own course of study, as long as I spent the night with him two or three times a week – I cannot say that it was pleasant, but I grew accustomed to it and it was a small fee for what I got in return. Since I knew how to make contraceptive potions (something that my patron himself taught me), I did not have to trouble myself with any long-term consequences from our liaisons.

I was careful to keep up a friendship with the servants, since most of the apprentices in the Guild would accept me only with difficulty and would never be made to like me. As it turned out I made friends with all the right people in the Guild – the cook often gave me extra food and treats on the sly, and the other servants put a great deal of time and effort into making my room more habitable. I made both the servants and novices a little happier by cleaning my room and washing my clothes on my own, for those duties usually fell to them. During my time in the Guild, one of the things I learned was that one would do well to have connections among the low as well as the high. Since I did not have the position or the cunning necessary to make friends in higher circles – with the exception of Vincento – the servants and novices were the best I could manage anyway, and they were enough.

My father and Antony were a bit of a problem. They both visited the Guild now and then, of course, so I had to take care to avoid them. Antony saw me once but after I ignored the look he shot in my direction, he kept out of my way just as I kept out of his. I heard some rumors to the effect that my father wanted to bring me back home, but Master Vincento somehow dissuaded him from it. It probably wasn't that difficult for Vincento to keep me at the Guild; if my father had been the kind of man to insist upon taking me back and do so, damn the consequences, I would not have left home in the first place. I came to realize that I was disgusted with his desperation and his weakness, and swore that I would never end up that way myself. Not long after I entered the Guild my father adopted one of the novices, who had been orphaned when both his parents died of a fever. He got the son he wanted after all. I saw him and his new ward from time to time, but always got out of the way quickly and never spoke a word to them.

Naturally I took advantage of the Guild's considerable library, and of the lessons taught by other masters there. It goes without saying that I gained more of the knowledge of the ancient Greeks and Romans, as well as a better understanding of Alchemy. I learned Arabic so that I could read the mathematical and scientific treatises published in that language, and once I had done that I was able to improve my knowledge of geometry, herbs and anatomy a great deal. Both the lessons and the books were Guild secrets, for obvious reasons, but with Vincento's authority I was, as I said, hardly forbidden from anything.

Though I was glad to be doing research and experiments, there was little in the library books that helped me understand my power. Hermes still visited me from time to time in the great round chamber when I dreamed. It was he who helped me develop my magic, though I also learned by trial and error. On looking back, I'm surprised that I didn't cause a great deal of damage to myself or someone else, and that I didn't drive myself mad. At times my power worked without my willing it, helping me create the desired product of my alchemical procedures even when I knew I had made a mistake in the process, or when the chances of success were very slim.

Often I stumbled on new applications for my power by sheer accident, such as when I knocked a beaker off the table so it broke on the floor, then caused it to re-form itself and return to its proper place. I did it without thinking, and I hardly understood what I had done; I'd turned time backward for the beaker so it shattered and fell in reverse, so to speak. It was a feat that I did not duplicate until many years later, after much study and practice when I had a better comprehension of magic. Back then it was sheer, uncontrolled power that allowed me to do it. Causing time to go backward was not so easy as making it go _forward_ at a greater rate, a trick that I quickly mastered so that I could make things boil in less time (well, less time to myself and the rest of the world) and make substances that had to sit for a week pass their waiting time in only three days.

I also discovered that I could heal my own burns and cuts – and I got a lot of those in my experiments – in a matter of seconds or minutes and without applying any treatment or leaving a scar. I attempted to do the same with some mice the servants caught for me by cutting them and then trying to repair the damage, but I was unsuccessful and could make no progress in that experiment. Only after formal training many years later did I learn to heal others, and I have never been very good at it.

My most interesting and fruitful experiments were the ones in which I tried to manipulate matter through will alone, though I always did that where nobody could see it. At first changing things took me several minutes, but that changed after I had another dream about Hermes. I went to the library and found some obscure books on Greek wizardry. In them I found incantations that, when I used them, helped me focus and gain more control over my power. Although I did not discover a way to transmute objects at that time – not for lack of practice! – I managed to make pieces of ice become liquid, then vapor, then solid again in a matter of seconds, turn glass into sand or vice versa, and turn a piece of coal into a diamond, among other things.

I also found out what kinds of things I could _not_ do. At one point I was annoyed by a fly that buzzed around my head as I worked, so I tried to use my power to make it so heavy it could not stay airborne. I had done similar things with feathers, but never with a living creature. My attempt backfired in a horrible way – the magic _twisted_ alarmingly, and I suddenly felt weak and nauseous. The next thing I knew I was on my bed in my garret room, looking up at the frightened faces of some of the servants. They said they had found me collapsed on the floor in the room where I had been working, and that I had a fever.

For two days I lay bedridden, unable to sit up without a struggle or to keep any food in my stomach. Master Vincento asked if I wanted a doctor, but I refused, saying that my ailment would probably pass. I did not know if a doctor, even a competent one, could have helped me, and if the physician found out what had caused my illness I would be in trouble. Perhaps I could have cured my illness by magic, but I did not dare to try until I felt well again. When I recounted this to a mage a few years later she said that my illness was a manifestation of Scourge, which resulted from my attempt to affect a living thing as I could affect non-living things. I had used magic improperly and suffered the consequences – which could have been much worse – and I did the right thing by abstaining from magic for a while afterward. To do otherwise would have compounded the problem.

As the astute reader may have discerned by now, much of the knowledge I gained in my four years at the Guild did not come from alchemical books and experiments, but from my exploration of magic. Alchemy is a good profession in which to practice magic on the sly, for one can cover up the magical experiments with mundane ones. Also, unusual or miraculous things – at least to a certain extent – are not common but not unexpected either, so with a little caution one can avoid suspicion with relative ease. I did not want anyone else to find out what I could do or that I did it, because those without magic are suspicious of magicians (for that matter, many magicians are suspicious of each other), even the alchemists. _Especially_ the alchemists, since any suspicions of magic on their part would invite censure from the Church and boycotts from those who bought their products or engaged their services. People like the di Medicis, who were known to support and practice magic, were powerful enough to get away with it; the Guild could not. At times I thought of going to them for training, but I knew that if I did I would be kept from studying as I wished to, and would end up as a tool for their own purposes. I would rather walk a rocky path free than a smooth road in chains.

Even though I was working on my own, with magic and other things, I was far ahead of the other apprentices in the Guild, and expected that Master Vincento would make me a journeyman someday. After more than three years he showed no sign of doing so, and when I brought up the subject he would skirt around it. Being allowed to study what I wanted was all well and good, but true freedom, and the money to buy my own books and materials, would come only with journeyman status. It took me a few months to realize that Vincento wanted to keep me as an apprentice, and therefore in his power, as long as possible. I was unlikely to see journeyman status in the Venetian Alchemists' Guild.

There was only one thing to do; I would have to leave Venice and seek my fortune elsewhere. I would probably do no better with an Alchemists' Guild in another city than I had with my own – and I would probably do worse – but I did not need Guilds. I could fend for myself, if only I could get away from the city where there dwelt people who knew me and had power over me. With that decision made, I began to prepare for departure. I made a number of potions and cosmetics to sell so that I could raise money for my travels.

Acting out of pure spite, I also stole one of the precious little treasures that Master Vincento kept in a locked display cabinet in his office. Most of the things there were just pretty trinkets, gifts from noble patrons, but only one thing was actually valuable to me – a small golden locket. It was not worth as much money as any of the other things in there, but that was not why I wanted it. I had noticed a long time before that it had magic in it, though I doubted that Vincento was aware of this himself. Experimenting with it in my room that night, I found that by channeling pure magical energy into the locket I could turn myself invisible for a time, an effect I could not accomplish with my own magic (I could bend light around myself, but still made ripples in the air if I didn't stay still). I wondered if I ought to return it, but decided that since Vincento had used me ill, I would repay him by keeping it. He probably would not notice its absence for a few days, by which time I intended to be well away from Venice.

I was only staying in the city so long in order to sell some of my concoctions at the grand Fair of Wonders that was to take place the next day, where all the Alchemists (and members of other Guilds) would be selling their products. My plan was to stay for the city for the Fair, raise as much money as I could, then leave for Rome or Florence when the whole thing was over. I didn't know what I'd _do_ in either of those places, but I certainly couldn't stay where I was.

Even if I _had_ known what to do once I reached another city, it would not have mattered much. I certainly left Venice and, after much time and travel, established myself elsewhere; but I did so in a most unusual way…

_And here the game begins_


End file.
